


Plague 2.0- It Comes With a Song

by prettycheese21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Dean is Not Amused, Dean is So Done, Established Dean Winchester/Reader, F/M, How Do I Tag, Humor, Musical References, Plague, Reader is such a nerd, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Songfic, World History is put to good use finally, Written for a writing challenge, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettycheese21/pseuds/prettycheese21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Name) and the Winchesters head down to Louisiana for a case and Dean falls victim to whatever the creature of the week has in store for them. (Name), being the amazing girlfriend she is, decides to cheer Dean up while Sam figures out what's going on.<br/>Dean is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plague 2.0- It Comes With a Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @blacktithe7's 1500 Follower's Celebration Challenge! If you haven't this blog, I highly encourage you do so. Her writing is amazing!
> 
> The song I was to use for this was "The Black Death" from the musical Something Rotten.  
> I'll admit, at first, I was a bit scared to use this song. I'd never heard of this song and had no idea what to do with it for a one-shot. Then, after much thinking and analyzing of the lyrics, this came to me.  
> I've taken quite a few scientific and creative liberties with this piece, so be gentle lol
> 
> Enjoy!

   It had all started with a case at the edge of a small Louisiana town. Sam, Dean, and (Name) had read about some mysterious deaths on an online newspaper and figured it was worth checking out. They packed up and headed down there, hoping to get there before anyone else got hurt from whatever the hell was plaguing that town.

   It’s ironic now, really, that choice of wording.

   They’d gone straight to the crime scene, not wanting to waste any time. After a brief investigation of the crime scene, which was the victim’s household, they yielded the usual nada. No hex bags, no sulfur, no ectoplasm, no EMF. Just a whole lot of nothing. 

   Seeing that they had their work cut out for them, they split up; with (Name) going to talk to the families of the victims while Sam and Dean took on the morgue.

   The trip to the morgue, however, produced much more interesting results. The latest victim, a thirty-something year old man, was covered in boils of an unnatural color, that unnatural color being black. These black blemishes contrasted heavily with the pale white of the skin on the man’s body. That seemed to be the only thing wrong with the body, at least on first glance.

   As the boys finished their cursory once-overs of the body, Dean leaned over to Sam, asking, “I’m no doctor, but… boils aren’t supposed to be black, right?” He’d poked at one of the larger ones with a gloved hand, causing it to burst all over the sleeve of his suit.  Grossed out, he withdrew his hand and wiped it on his pants.

   “Uh, no, Dean. They’re not,” Sam murmured his answer, trying to hide a smile at his brother’s reaction, before turning back to the mortician. “So, what do you got for the cause of death?”

   “We’re not sure yet,” the mortician, an older woman, answered. “With the-” she gestured to all of the dead man “-interesting boils, I’ve taken some blood and sent it to a larger lab for more detailed testing.”

   Sam went to dig in his coat, handing her a card, “Let me know when you get those results.”

   “Will do, Agent.” She gave him a nod before heading off to attend to other business. 

   Dean let out a sigh as Sam pulled out his phone to take pictures of the body, “So… any ideas on what this is?”

   Sam shook his head as he pocketed his phone and picked up the chart, beginning to flip through it. “No idea. Whatever it is doesn’t hold back. It managed to take down a guy who was in peak health.”

   “Come on, I think we need to go join up with (Name) and talk to the family of the victims. See if we can get anything from them.” A nod from Sam made Dean turn around and exit the morgue, heading straight for the car.

*****

   The talks with the families evidently revealed nothing. They’d all been overall decent people who’d never really ruffled any feathers and never seemed to find time to leave for far off places to purchase spooky, exotic items. They’d gone back and consulted the autopsy notes and found nothing about bite marks or puncture wounds, which left the brothers even more at a loss for what was happening. It wasn’t until a few days later that things took a turn and finally yielded some clues as to what was going on.

   “I’ve checked Dad’s journal a hundred times and nothing!” Dean exclaimed in frustration. 

   “Yeah, I’m getting nothing on the lore,” Sam stated, not looking up from his laptop.

   (Name), however, did look up from the book she was reading and frowned. “You alright, Dean? You’re looking a little… sweaty,” she asked.

   He was taken aback by his comment. “What? (Name), I’m fine. That’s not what we should be focusing on right now. We have mysterious boil-covered people who died for seemingly no reason.” Dean stood up, but nearly toppled over as he squinted into the light, his hand coming up to shield his eyes.

   Sam and (Name) were immediately on their feet and headed toward the man. Sam’s hands went to Dean’s shoulders to steady him. “Yeah, you’re fine,” Sam quipped. Using the back of his hand, he began to check for a fever. 

   All the while, Dean was protesting to Sam’s insistent mother-henning. “Dude, _I’m_ fine. We have dead people who _aren’t_ fine. And if we don’t figure out what’s causing this soon, we’re gonna have a lot more people who won’t be- Ow!” He groaned when Sam’s hand went to the back of his neck. “What the hell, Sam?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question,” he muttered as he turned his brother around. Pulling down the collar of his brother’s shirts, his eyes widened at the sight of a terrifyingly familiar boil on the back of his neck. 

   “We have a problem,” (Name) voiced.

   “Why?” Dean asked. “Do I have a tick on my neck or something?”

   “No, it’s not a tick,” Sam stated. “It’s a boil.”

   “What? You mean like a ‘boil’ boil or a ‘morgue guy’ boil?” Dean questioned, clearly annoyed at not knowing what’s going on.

   Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, 'morgue guy’ boil.”

   Dean blanched, “Wait so I have what these people had? What probably killed them?”

   “Yeah, it looks like,” he responded with a sigh. “There is good news though.”

   His eyes went wide as he asked, “I’m dying and there’s good news?”

   “You are not dying, Dean. Not on my watch. And yes, there is good news.”

   “Well, care to share with the rest of the class?”

   Sam stepped away from Dean, the latter fixing his shirt collar as the former opened up his laptop and began to boot it up. “The good news is we can monitor your progress and figure out what happened to them so we can make sure it doesn’t happen to you too.”

   As Dean ungraciously fell back onto the bed, he said, “So, basically, what you’re saying is I’m guinea pig until you figure out what the hell is going on?”

   “He won’t be testing anything on you, more observing what happens to you, but, yeah,” (Name) commented. “Essentially, you’re a guinea pig. You just… rest until we figure things out.”

   “Great. Just great.” He shivered as he scooted himself up into the bed, soon falling asleep in a position that did _not_ look comfortable. At least, not comfortable for his neck.

*****

   Sam had been looking at every website imaginable, trying to find any information he could on what these boils could be. (Name), on the other hand, had taken Dean on as her patient. And he was _not_ the easiest of patients. In fact, taking care of Dean only solidified why she never wanted to work with people, especially sick ones. 

   It was a few days later when the team (mainly Sam) made any sort of progress. Sam had been combing through hours upon hours of research during that entire time and so far found nothing. Dean, on the other hand, had made all sorts of progress but in the wrong direction. He’d been stuck in the bathroom since day two with intense nausea, leaving (Name) to deal with him.

   Sam’s phone rang, pulling him from his research. Noticing it was the morgue he answered with, “This is Agent Young.” He listened in, his eyes widening as he did. “Really? Any idea on how they were exposed?” A pause. “None? Alright- uh- thanks for calling me. Let me know if you get any more info. Bye.” Hanging up, he got and walked over to the bathroom door. He listened in for a moment before he swung the door open to reveal a pale, sweaty Dean leaning his head against the wall as he sat next to the toilet. Sam cleared his throat, “So… the morgue just called. They know what caused the boils.”

   Dean registered Sam’s presence a few moments after he came in, “Okay… So what’s the verdict? Am I dying?”

   “It’s the Black Death, ” Sam stated. “You have the plague.”

   “What?” Dean looked at him like he was insane.

   (Name) saw an opportunity and she couldn’t resist. The theatre nerd within her would never forgive her for letting this kind of opportunity go by. She began to sing the rest of the lyrics to a song that fit the situation perfectly, “ _It’s the Black Death. It’s gonna hit ya with those blisters, oozing like syrup_.”

   Dean let out a long sigh while Sam chuckled and (Name) continued with her impromptu jam session. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to that show last time we were in New York,” he muttered.

   She stopped singing and gaped at Dean. “Something Rotten isn’t something you just pass up, Dean,” she defended. “The girl we saved had tickets she wasn’t going to be able to use since she was going to be stuck in the hospital. It would have been a crime _not_ to use them. They were good seats!”

   “Wow. Two years of dating and I keep forgetting you’re into theatre,” Dean chuckled for a few moments before letting out a groan as a wave of nausea hit him.

   “Need me to hold your hair back?” Sam asked, a joking smirk on his face.

   “Shut up!” he shot back before promptly turning back to the toilet and vomiting.

   “We really should take him to the hospital,” (Name) mused. “Last time I checked, there was a cure for the plague.”

   “There is, but I don’t think it’d help even we did take him,” Sam stated.

   “What do you mean?”

    He looked at her with sympathy, clearly seeing the worry etched into her features. “This isn’t the actual disease. It only mimics it. Taking him to the hospital would only put more people at risk for infection should Dean… you know…”

   (Name) sighed as she began to rub Dean’s back in a gesture of comfort, though who she was actually comforting remained to be seen. Turning to look up at Sam, she said, “Just figure out how to fix this.”

   Sam nodded, immediately going back to being serious. “Keep me updated if he develops any new symptoms.”

   “Will do.” She grabbed the cold rag that was off to the side and wiped off the back of Dean’s neck, careful to avoid the boil there that had only grown in size since it was first discovered. In an effort to distract, she sang, “ _The Black Death, it’s getting closer. It’s the Black Death. It’s getting grosser_.”

   “Alright, (Name), enough with the stupid song!” he grunted out between heaves.

*****

   “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Sam said as he came into the bathroom the next day.

   “Bad news first,” Dean said hoarsely.

   “It looks like a case of ghost sickness.”

   “I thought ghost sickness killed you by scaring you to death?” (Name) questioned as she handed Dean a newly filled glass of water.

   “Yeah, that’s how they usually present,” Sam stated, “but this could be an exception. That’s the only thing I could think of that could infect these different people with the same disease without being in contact with anyone that was ill.”  
“How did this even happen?” Dean asked, his voice sounding a bit stronger after having taken a sip of the water. 

   “Well, I’m thinking when that boil popped on you, that’s how you got infected.”

   “Why isn’t (Name) infected? She’s been taking care of my stupid ass since I got sick and she hasn’t grown any gross boils yet.”

   “That’s the thing,” Sam said as he leaned against the doorframe. “I’m thinking the reason none of us has gotten sick is because we don’t fit the criteria the ghost is looking for.”

   It was (Name)’s turn to but in as she asked, “What criteria would that be?”

   Sam shrugged, “See, I’m not sure. Until I figure the ghost that’s causing this, I can’t say what it’s looking for. Maybe it picked a host that seemed to be the strongest specimen available.”

   “What, so I’m a _specimen_ now?” Dean questioned, looking vaguely insulted.

   “I don’t know, Dean! All I know is you have the plague and there shouldn’t be any ghosts here that died from it since it killed people primarily in Europe and Asia.”

   The three sat in contemplative silence as they thought about that. Aside from the occasional cough from Dean, things were actually quiet as they individually brainstormed. Five minutes later, (Name) figured it out. “Remember that museum we passed on our way into town?”

   “Yeah?” Sam prompted.

   “I’m pretty sure there was a banner outside announcing they were displaying newly acquired treasures from the Yuan dynasty.”

   “And what does that have to do with this?” Dean asked.

   “If I remember my world history right, I’m pretty sure that was the dynasty in China during the time of the plague. What if a spirit of someone killed by the plague attached itself to one of those artifacts and now it’s here, wreaking havoc and killing people?” she explained.

   Sam nodded. “It’s possible.”

   “How did someone come into contact with the artifact in the first place? None of the victims worked at the museum,” Dean asked. 

   “Actually,” Sam said, holding up a finger telling them to hold on as he sprinted out of the room. The sound rustling papers could be heard before he reappeared again with a file in his hand, reading it intently. “The first victim, the kid home from college for the summer, was helping out at the museum for some extra cash.”

   “It’s thin, Sammy,” Dean stated.

   “It’s all we got,” Sam pointed out. 

   “Okay, say this is what’s going on,” Dean coughed. “How do we get rid of it? Last I checked, they burned all the victims of the plague. So, even we were somehow able to get to Asia or Europe or wherever the hell this thing came from, we can’t burn its bones.”

   “I hate to say this,” Sam began, “but I think we’re going to have to destroy the artifact in order to get rid of it.”

   “We’re going to have to destroy a priceless treasure to save Dean?” (Name) asked, a sad look on her face.

   “Wow, love you too, (Name),” Dean muttered.

   Sam chuckled, “I’ll start looking into the artifacts at the museum so we have an idea on what were looking for when we head out tonight.”

   Dean leaned back with a groan as Sam left the bathroom. There was silence for a moment before (Name) decided it was too quiet and the silence need another (totally appropriate) song break. “ _The Black Death, Black Death, woo! Mmmmm Mmmmmm the Black Death, Black Death_ -” she was interrupted by a very annoyed looking Dean.

   “Sing one more note. See what happens.” Granted, Dean could barely lift a pillow at that moment, but the look on his face told her it was best not to make him even more upset. He did have a penchant to never forgive and never forget.

   She cleared her throat, before going back to quietly dabbing sweaty forehead with a “Sorry.”

*****

   They’d left Dean alone in a circle of salt with a gun to defend himself. Of course, Dean wanted to go with and (Name) had her concerns with leaving him alone in his state, but Sam had reassured them both that he knew exactly what artifact it was and they’d be back in an hour tops. 

   An hour ended up being three, and what was supposed to an easy smash and burn turned into a scuffle with a _very_ pissed off spirit that was stronger than either of them had anticipated. They still got the job done, but not without injuries sustained.

   (Name) ended up having to drive them back to the motel, seeing as Sam’s dislocated shoulder left him unable to do so. Although, if she were being honest, she probably shouldn’t have been driving either, considering she was pretty sure she’d gotten a concussion from being thrown head first into a storage shelf.  
They made back to the motel in one piece. Well, they got there without sustaining any more injuries along the way. Dean was on his feet, practically dancing as he didn’t feel like death anymore. 

   “I’m cured!” he practically exclaimed.  

   “Good for you,” (Name) said in a low hiss as his loud voice aggravated her growing headache. “Pop your brother’s shoulder back in, make sure he doesn’t need stitches. I’m getting an icepack and some ibuprofen. Come check on me when you’re done. And every few hours after that.” 

   “Why?” Dean asked as he set his hands up to pop Sam’s shoulder in.

   “Because-” she began, ignoring the popping sound of Sam’s joint going back into its socket “-I’m pretty sure I have a concussion and I need to make sure it doesn’t get any worse.” She pressed the icepack to the side of her head, where she’d hit her head earlier. “That spirit was pissed as shit, let me tell you.”

   “I can see that,” Dean commented as he inspected the cuts on Sam’s face. “Though not pissed enough for any of you to need stitches it seems.”

   “Whoopty-freaking-doo,” she grumbled as she lie propped up on the bed.

*****

   After a few days of R and R, the trio decided it’d be best if they got back on the road. Heading back to the bunker seemed like the next logical step, at least until Sam’s shoulder had a chance to properly healed.

   Packing was quick and Dean was than eager to drive, antsy to do something productive after being holed up in a smelly motel room for the better part of a week with most of that time spent being sicker than a dog. 

   “Everyone got everything?” Dean asked as (Name) climbed into the backseat. 

   “Yep. I do have a question though,” (Name) said.

   “Oh? And what would that be?” Dean asked, oblivious to (Name)’s diabolical plans.

   “What’s that coming up the Silk Road, out of China?” she asked innocently.

   Sam laughed as Dean just looked bewildered. “What?” Dean’s face contorted into an expression of confusion.

   “It’s the Bla-”

   “Finish that sentence and you’re walking back to the bunker.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Want more?  
> Let me know by leaving a kudos and a comment!
> 
> Want to request something of your own?  
> You can do that in the comments on here or on my Tumblr page (@notsoobviousfangirl).
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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